The Monkees and the Bridezilla
by Erin T. Aardvark
Summary: The Monkees wind up roped into helping prepare for the wedding of the cousin of a friend of Peter's 13-year-old nephew. Unfortunately, the cousin is a gigantic bridezilla. Will they survive?
1. Chapter 1

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I got the idea from various places. The TV show, "Bridezilla," for one, and something my sister was noodling with for another. The Monkees belong to themselves, and Franky, Aimee, and any other characters belong to me. I also strongly advise reading my fanfic, "Monkee Magic" before reading this, otherwise some things may not make sense._

* * *

It was a typical Saturday afternoon in the month of May at the Monkees Pad. The boys were rehearsing a song, just in case somebody called wanting them for a gig. Peter's thirteen-year-old nephew, Franky, was watching them. As the Monkees were rehearsing, the phone rang.

"I'll get it," Franky said.

"If it's the landlord, tell him we're not home," Micky said. Franky nodded, and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" he said. "Oh, hi, Aimee, what's happening?"

Aimee Armbruster was a friend of Franky's from school. He had a bit of a crush on her.

"Uh huh," Franky said, after listening to what Aimee had to say. "Uh huh. Uuuuuhhhhh huh. Well, I don't know . . . . I'll have to check. Hang on a sec. Hey guys, Aimee wants us to do her a huge favor."

"Sure, what is it?" Davy asked.

"She wants you guys to play for her cousin's wedding for nothing," Franky said. "See, she told her that she knows somebody who knows a band . . . . that somebody being me, of course."

"A wedding, huh?" Mike said. "When is it?"

"When is it?" Franky asked, going back to the phone. Then he covered the receiver with his hand, and turned toward the Monkees. "Next month, on the twentieth."

"I just have one question," Peter said. "How come we're not getting paid?"

"How come they're not getting paid?" Franky asked, going back to the phone. "Why'd she do that? What do you mean you won't tell me? Hang on."

"What now?" Davy asked.

"She said her cousin can't pay the band because she fired her wedding planner," Franky said. "And since she fired her wedding planner, she spent too much money on her dress, caterers, the cake, the reception hall, and practically everything else and she doesn't have anymore money in her budget for a band. I asked her why her cousin fired her wedding planner, but she won't tell me."

"I'm gettin' a funny feelin' about this," Mike said. "I don't think we should accept this gig, you guys."

"Come on, Mike!" Davy shouted. "A job's a job."

"Yeah, but we're not gonna get paid for it," Mike said.

"It's exposure," Micky pointed out.

"Yeah, someone might see us and sign us up for a record deal," Peter said. Mike heaved a sigh.

"Okay, shotgun," he said, turning to Franky. "Tell her we'll do it. I get the feelin' we're gonna regret it, but we'll do it."

"Check," Franky said, and then went back to the phone. "You still there, Aimee? Yeah, Mike said they'll do it. They might regret it, but they'll do it."

The next day, the Monkees went over to Aimee's house in order to get the information they would need for this gig, and to meet the bride and groom. Aimee answered the door, and let them in.

"Hi guys," she said. "Come on in. Thanks for agreeing to this. My cousin wanted a big, traditional wedding. She sent two thousand invitations."

"Two _thou_ sand invitations?!" Mike shouted.

"You must be joking!" Davy shouted.

"A little much, don't you think?" Micky asked.

"You don't know my cousin," Aimee said, shrugging.

"What's her name?" Mike asked.

"Brace yourselves," Aimee said. "Her name is Fanny."

"Fanny?" Mike asked, giving Aimee a weird look.

"Yeah!" a small voice shouted from down the hallway. "And she is one, too!"

The voice belonged to Aimee's seven-year-old sister, Ellen. She was going to be the flower girl in the wedding, and she was not looking forward to it one bit.

"What do you mean by that?" Micky asked, a little confused.

"If you stick around long enough, you'll find out!" Ellen shouted, and she walked down the hall and through the kitchen to get to the stairs to the basement. "And you'll also find out why her wedding planner quit!"

"I thought you said she fired her wedding planner," Peter said.

"Well . . . . Fanny said she fired her," Aimee said. "And the wedding planner said she quit."

"So it's kinda six of one, half dozen of the other," Micky said.

"I take it your cousin's not the easiest person to get along with," Davy said.

"Yes," Aimee said. "She's a bit, er . . . demanding."

"That's an understatement!" Ellen called from the basement.

"Oh, we've dealt with those types before," Peter said.

"Yes, but you haven't . . ." Aimee started.

"A tut, tut, tut, tut," Micky added. "I think I can handle this. If we can handle the snobby boyfriend of a girl Peter's got a crush on, we can surely handle a demanding bride!"

"You'll be sorrrrrryyyyyyy!" Ellen called up from the basement again.

Aimee ignored her sister, and led the boys into the den, where her parents were sitting a girl in her early twenties with platinum blond hair, who didn't look very friendly. Sitting next to her was a slightly older, balding, pasty man with a black droopy mustache and round spectacles.

"Hi, Mac, hi Gina," Davy said to Aimee's parents. "'Ow's it going?"

"Hi, boys," Mac said. "I'd like to introduce you to our niece, Fanny Buttman."

Franky nearly lost it. He snerked, and covered his mouth, trying not to burst out laughing. He stopped immediately when Peter nudged him in the arm.

"It's nice to meet you, Fanny," Peter said, extending his hand to Aimee's cousin.

"I don't shake hands with long-haired weirdos," Fanny said, turning up her nose.

"So, is this your . . . . uhhh . . . ." Mike said, referring to the man next to her, "father, or somethin'?"

"Uh, _no_ . . ." Fanny said, rolling her eyes. "This is my fiancé, Wilton Toaste. Say hello to my baby cousin's friends, hon."

"Yes, dear," Wilton replied, nasally, sounding every bit as droopy as he looked. In fact he was practically a milquetoast.

"We're pleased to meet you Mr. Toaste," Davy greeted as she shook his hand.

"Yes, sir," he replied in a very unenthusiastic tone of voice, and giving Davy a handshake so limp, it reminded the British Monkee of a dead fish.

"Yee-ah," Micky grinned a bit uneasily. "Okay, fine."

"I think I saw a relative of his on an old _Looney Tunes_ cartoon," Franky said. Once again, Peter nudged his nephew in the arm. Franky had a bad habit of speaking before thinking.

"Well, Fanny," Mike said, "I don't know what Aimee told you about us, but . . . ."

"Whatever," Fanny interrupted, handing Mike a piece of paper. "I'm sure you'll be fine as long as you play everything on this list, and nothing but this list. Wilty, be a peach and bring our bags to our hotel, would ya? I'll meet you there shortly."

"Yes, dear," Wilton obediently replied.

"Don't ya just _love_ a man who obeys your every whim?" Fanny gushed. "Aimee, dear, when you're old enough for love, you should find yourself a nice boy that will do _every_ thing for you!"

"Yeah, right . . ." Aimee said, hesitantly.

"I'm just curious," Franky said. "How did you end up falling in love with that guy?"

"Oh, I'm not marrying out of _love_ , silly goose!" Fanny shouted. "I'm marrying him because he's obedient . . . and _load_ ed!"

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," Mike said.

After the introductions, the group went to the chapel where the wedding was to be held. It was a small chapel, painted white, with a blue painted steeple at the top.

"Well, at least the outside matches the decor," Fanny said. "Now let's see the inside."

"Decor?" Micky asked.

"Yes, dear," Fanny replied. "This is a blue and white wedding. Those are the only colors allowed in the near vicinity save for the flower stems and the grass."

Fanny then looked at the Monkees, and studied them.

"Say," she said, "is it possible for you guys to dye your hair? Maybe bleach it blond? Or at least dye it blue."

"No!" Mike shouted. "We are _not_ gonna dye our hair blue . . . and especially not bleach it, either!"

"Oh very well," Fanny said, grudgingly. "I'll allow dark hair then. I'm already making an exception for Uncle Mac. Why not make an exception for the hired help, too?"

"Hired help?" Mike repeated. "Now just what's _that_ supposed to . . . ."

"Come along, I don't have all day," Fanny said, snapping her fingers as she entered the chapel.

Mike followed her inside, about ready to pummel the bride-to-be, but the other Monkees stopped him before he could.

"Mike, take it easy," Davy said. "Aftah all, it's only for one day. Keep telling yourself that."

"It's only for one day," Mike repeated after taking a deep breath and clapping his hands together in front of his forehead before moving them down his chest. "It's only . . . one . . . day."

"Is this a case of pre-wedding jitters, or is she always like this?" Micky asked.

"She's _always_ like this," Aimee simply stated before she followed her snooty cousin inside the chapel.

"Yeah, I thought so," Micky said.

Unfortunately for Fanny, the interior of the chapel did not meet her standards. The carpet was a burgundy color, and the pews parts of the wall, and the altar were made out of cherrywood.

"Ugh," Fanny grunted in disgust. "Who was responsible for these designs?"

"I don't know," Gina said, shrugging. "It's been here for at least a hundred . . ."

"Everything needs to be painted over in white!" Fanny interrupted her aunt. "The carpet needs to be replaced as well. Make it royal blue. Unfortunately I can't say much about it's small size, but it'll do."

Fanny then turned on her heel and strutted out of the church. Mike looked at the fine polished cherrywood in dismay. He thought the color fit the chapel. He looked over toward Mac and Gina, who were talking with someone from the church about what Fanny wanted for her wedding.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he said to Aimee, "but are your folks _actually_ gonna talk somebody into paintin' this place and replacin' the carpet?"

"Yes," Aimee sighed. "Fanny's mother is my dad's younger sister, and she's kind of the favorite, if you know what I mean. Fanny's an only child, and Aunt Norma and Uncle Earl indulge her every whim, and so do my grandparents. Mother and Daddy think they should indulge Fanny too, just because it's her wedding day."

"Lord, give me strength," Mike prayed while looking at the ceiling.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, the Monkees were going over Fanny's playlist in dismay.

"You'd better call Aimee, Franky," Davy said. "I don't think we'd be able to play anything on this list."

"What's the matter with it?" Franky asked.

"What's the matter with it, he asks," Mike said, rolling his eyes. "What's the matter with it is that what she wants is the Budapest String Quartet, and not a rock and roll group."

"Yeah, man, listen to this," Micky said. " _Canon in D, Ave Maria, Ode to Joy, Eine, Kleine Nachtmusic, the Blue Danube, A Midsummer Night's Dream_ thing, something by somebody named Vivaldi . . . ."

Before Micky could go on, there was a knock at the door. Davy put down his maracas, walked over to the door, opened the window in it to see who it was (even though he was too short to see), and opened the door. Standing there was Fanny, along with Aimee, and four other young women. Two of them had platinum blond hair, and the other two had blue hair.

"Hi, Aimee," Davy said. "What brings you down 'ere?"

"These are four of my bridesmaids," Fanny said, before Aimee could answer. "Though Aimee is more of a junior bridesmaid. Anyway, meet Gail, Darlene, Paula, and Mildred."

"Call me Blue," Mildred said. She was one of the bridesmaids with blue hair. "I hate my real name."

"Hi," Micky said. "Nice to meet you."

" _Very_ nice to meet you!" Davy shouted, making goo-goo eyes at Gail, who just giggled.

"Is there a reason you're introducin' us to your bridesmaids?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Fanny said. "Four of Wilty's groomsmen had to drop out, and I need the number of groomsmen to match the bridesmaids. It'll look _ghastly_ if I have more bridesmaids than groomsmen! So I need five more people, and thankfully, you boys fit the bill."

"But there's only four of us," Micky said.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Franky asked.

"Of course not," Fanny said. "You're going to be a junior groomsman and escort Aimee down the aisle. Of course you both will have to sit at the kiddie table with little Ellen and Forbershire and the rest of the children."

" _For_ bershire?!" Mike shouted, giving Aimee a confused look.

"Wilton's six-year-old nephew," Aimee explained. "He's the ring bearer."

"Yeah, but _For_ bershire?!" Mike asked. "Is that even a name?"

"If you think _that's_ bad," Aimee said. "Forbershire's got an eighteen-year-old brother named Wilberforce, and a baby sister named Ambrosia!"

"Uh huh," Mike said, nodding. He wasn't sure he understood that.

"Anyway, I need you boys to come downtown with me," Fanny said. "See, I need to get the girls fitted for their dresses, and of course, you boys will need to be fitted for tuxedos that match the other groomsmen's, so while I'm getting the girls settled, you boys go get your tuxes, okay?"

"Do we 'ave a choice?" Davy asked.

"No," Fanny said, sweetly.

And with that, the group went into town. Fanny left her bridesmaids at the bridal salon, and took the boys to the shop where Wilton's groomsmen had rented their tuxedos.

"Don't worry about the money," Fanny said. "Daddy said Uncle Mac would be happy to pay for any extra costs that might spring up."

"Your dad's all heart," Micky said, rolling his eyes.

"I know!" Fanny shouted, smiling an annoying smile. Then she hit the bell on the counter until a sales clerk appeared.

"Hello!" she shouted. "I'm Fanny Buttman and I'm getting married and my fiancé's groomsmen all got their tuxedos here, and I'm going to need five more, okay? I'll be back in an hour! Bye!"

With that, Fanny flounced off to get back to the bridal salon. The clerk looked at the Monkees, and sighed.

"Hey, Harry!" he shouted toward the back room. "I need five more tuxes for the Toaste/Buttman wedding! I should warn you, fellas, you'd better back out of this thing while you can! These tuxes she wants . . . . . oh brother!"

"Aw, come on," Peter said. "How bad can they be?"

Within moments, Peter got an answer to that question. The boys found themselves wearing identical powder blue tuxedos, with white, ruffled shirts, powder blue vests, and even powder blue shoes. The shirts also had gigantic ruffled cuffs.

"I told you so," the sales clerk said. "The bride is big on ruffles."

"So I've noticed," Mike said.

"I've worn some pretty wild get ups in my time," Micky said, looking at the huge cuffs. "But I think this takes the cake!"

The front door of the shop opened, and Fanny walked in to check on how things were going. She saw the boys in their tuxes, and held her hand over her mouth, as tears came to her eyes.

"Yeah, I know how you feel," Micky said. "I wanted to cry when I saw this outfit, too!"

"Oh, you boys look so _wonderful_!" she shouted.

"We look so ri _dic_ ulous!" Franky shouted. "This has got to be the tackiest looking tuxedo I have ever seen in my life!"

"Oh what do you know?!" Fanny shouted. "After all, you're just a _child_! Just like Aimee! _She_ didn't like them either. _She_ doesn't even like the bridesmaids dresses! _Chil_ dren have absolutely no taste! Oh, you boys are going to look so _elegant_ next to my bridesmaids! Just wait until you see how they look! I'll show you right now!"

Fanny practically grabbed Davy's hand, and yanked him out of the shop.

"Just charge the tuxes to my uncle, Mackenzie Armbruster!" she shouted on the way out. "You have the address! I gave it to you when the other five men were in!"

"Other five?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, she's got ten groomsmen," the sales clerk said with a sigh. "To go with ten bridesmaids."

"You're not serious," Mike said.

"Unfortunately, I am," the sales clerk sighed.

Mike, Micky, Peter, and Franky looked at each other, and went to change out of the tuxes. They didn't think it could get any worse. At least not until they saw Aimee and Fanny's friends in their bridesmaid dresses. They were powder blue antebellum dresses covered in ruffles, with ruffled hats tied with a huge bow at their chins, and they came complete with matching ruffled parasols.

"Oh merciful heavens . . . ." Mike said.

"Holy Mesopotamia . . . ." Franky said. "Aimee, do you know what you look like?!"

"Yeah," Aimee said. "Like I should be marching in an Easter parade instead of a wedding."

"I have never seen so many ruffles in my entire life," Peter said. "Don't you think it's a little much?"

"No," Fanny said, glaring at Peter. "They need _more_ ruffles!"

"Wha?!" Micky shouted. "You gotta be kidding!"

"I happen to like ruffles!" Fanny shouted. "You have to do as I say because it's my day!"

"What about your bridesmaids?" Davy asked. "Don't they get a say in the . . . ."

Davy stopped when he saw Aimee slash her hand across her throat as if to tell him "Nix, nix, nix!"

"Of course they don't get any say in the matter," Fanny gave a derisive laugh. "After all, as I keep having to remind everybody because you're so dense and all . . . IT'S MY SPECIAL DAY!"

Fanny then left the salon while slamming the door behind her.

"Oh boy," Mike sighed as a few bits of plaster came down from the ceiling due to the force of said slam. He then turned to look at the bridesmaids.

"You know, I don't envy you one bit," he added matter of factly.

"Truthfully . . ." Paula timidly admitted, "we really _don't_ want to be a part of this wedding." "Why not?" Micky asked.

"She's a royal pain!" Blue shouted. "I had to dye my hair blue because of her . . . and I hate the color blue!"

"Then why do you want to call yourself Blue?" Peter asked.

"Because it's a cool name!" Blue shouted. "And it's a heck of a lot better than Mildred!"

"To answer your question, Micky," Gail added, "we're doing it because Fanny is our friend."

"With friends like her, who needs enemies, am I right?" Franky asked.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," Peter said, giving his nephew a swat in the shoulder. "I'm sure her . . . wonderful personality at this time is strictly a case of pre-wedding jitters."

"It's not just a case of her being a Bridezilla, Peter," Aimee informed the blond Monkee. "You don't know her on a personal level. Ellen calls her 'Special Snowflake'."

"Special Snowflake," Blue chuckled a bit. "Heh, that's a good one."

"Don't say we didn't warn you," Darlene added. "She may not seem so bad now, but wait as the weeks go by. She's going to get worse."

The Monkees looked at each other, and their faces took on worried expressions. At first they thought playing at this wedding would be a piece of cake. Now, after seeing the bride's behavior first hand, and hearing testimony from the bridesmaids themselves, they were getting less and less sure.

The next day, Fanny practically dragged Aimee with her to the bakery Aimee's parents suggested, since the woman who owned it was the mother of one of Ellen's friends. Mike, Peter, and Franky went with them, due to the fact that misery loved company. When they walked in, the first person who saw them was a young girl who had talked to Fanny on the phone.

"Ooh!" she squealed as she zoomed over to greet the bride to be. "Are you the bride? If so, what kind of wedding cake do you want? I'm eager to please, you know, and I want to make it the bestest best wedding cake in you're whole entire life!"

"Um . . . yeah," Fanny said, looked very apprehensive over meeting the enthusiastic baker. "Could you do me one little favor, dear?"

"Anything!" the girl replied, with a huge toothy grin.

"Lay off the pixie sticks, 'kay?" Fanny said, wrinkling her nose a bit. "You're creeping me out."

"Oh," the girl said, looking a little downtrodden over hearing that.

"Sorry about that, Judy," Aimee said. Then she turned to Mike, Peter, and Franky. "Guys, this is Judy Cameron. She's Mrs. Baxter's assistant, and she loves doing wedding cakes, so she's a bit excited at that."

"So," Judy said, calming down, "what kind of cake do you want?"

"Truthfully I'd rather have a famous award winning chef handle my catering," Fanny said, checking her nails, "but my stupid aunt and uncle can't afford it, and they're too much of a couple of knobs that they won't cater to my every whim, like my mother and daddy do, and which Uncle Mac and Aunt Gina really _should_ do, too. I'm pretty much stuck with you, aren't I?"

"Uhhh . . ." Judy said, taken a bit aback.

"Did she just say what I _think_ she said?" Mike whispered to Aimee.

"She did," Aimee said with a nod.

"That's what I thought," Fanny said. "Just make it the most extravagant cake your simple little peabrain can muster."

"Okay, I think we can handle that," Judy said, giving Fanny a dirty look, which she didn't notice. "But I need to know a few things. What flavor do you want the cake to be, what kind of icing do you want, what kind of decorations do you . . . ."

"Don't bore me with those stupid questions!" Fanny shouted, as she turned on her heel. "Just bake it!"

With that, Fanny left the bakery, and she also left Judy, and the boys completely bewildered. Aimee was so used to her cousin's behavior, she didn't even flinch.

"Okie dokie," Judy shrugged. "We'll make it a chocolate and vanilla five tier cake. That way everyone's happy!"

"Yeah," Mike said. "Just one more thing. Make sure you cover the darn sucker with as much ruffles as you possibly can."

"Yeah, she really digs ruffles," Peter said.

"Right," Judy said. "Oh boy, I wonder if Mrs. Baxter has ever dealt with brides like _this_ before?"

After leaving the bakery, Fanny took the group to the hotel ballroom where the reception was going to be held. Davy and Micky were already there waiting for them, and setting up their instruments.

"What in the world is _this_?!" Fanny shouted, when she saw Micky adjusting the cymbals to his drums.

"Drums," Micky said, bluntly. "And that's a guitar, and that's a bass, and that's all . . . ."

"I already _know_ that, dummy!" Fanny shouted. "What I meant was _why_ are you setting up instruments like these?"

"We're a rock band," Davy said.

"A _rock_ band?!" Fanny shouted. "Ohhhhh no! No, no, no! I do _not_ want a rock band to play at my wedding! Aimee, why didn't you _tell_ me they were a rock and roll group?!"

"I tried to, but you wouldn't listen," Aimee said. "As usual."

"Don't knock 'em until you've tried 'em," Franky said. "The Monkees are the greatest rock band in the world!"

"Really?" Fanny asked, wrinkling her nose. "Then how come I've never heard of you?"

"Neither has anyone else," Peter said. Micky and Mike both nudged him in the ribs as hard as they could.

"At least give us a chance to audition," Davy said.

"Oh all right," Fanny sighed. "If I must."

"You're all heart," Micky said, sarcastically.

The Monkees then launched into "Sometime in the Morning." Franky and Aimee loved it, but Fanny didn't seem to share their opinion.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, right in the middle of the song.

"Was one of us off pitch?" Peter asked.

"I don't want to dance to _that_ at my wedding!" Fanny whined.

"But it's a nice song," Peter said.

"Ugh," Fanny pinched the bridge of her nose before she glared at the Monkees. "Whose wedding is this?"

"Yours," the boys stated in unison, all four with an annoyed sigh.

"And shouldn't _I_ dictate my own wedding song?" Fanny asked.

"Yes," the Monkees deadpanned.

"Good," Fanny smiled. "Now then once I figure out what I want for my first dance with Hubby, I'll get back to you." With that she turned on her heel, and proudly marched out of the ballroom.

"I thought it was great," Aimee said.

"At least someone around here knows good music when she hears it," Micky said. "Man, that Wilton Toaste must be pretty desperate to marry someone like your cousin!"


	3. Chapter 3

After that disaster, the Monkees drove Aimee back to her house. A delivery truck from the bridal salon was just pulling out.

"They must've delivered Fanny's wedding gown," Aimee said.

"This I've gotta see," Micky said. "I want to make some comparisons on how many ruffles _this_ thing has compared to the bridesmaid's outfits!"

The minute Aimee and the boys walked inside the house, they heard loud screaming and things being thrown around. Ellen was laying on the living room couch, nonchalantly reading a comic book, with wads of cotton jammed into her ears. Aimee tapped her on the leg to get her attention.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Special Snowflake's big fancy dress came," Ellen said. "And she's in there throwing a big, fancy temper tantrum."

Fanny then stormed down the hall, and into the living room, wearing a strapless eggshell white satin gown with a long train and a full skirt. The long veil was attached to a small silver tiara.

"Aimee, look at this dress!" she shouted.

"What's wrong with it?" Aimee asked. "I think it's beautiful."

"This is _not_ what a princess' wedding gown should look like!" Fanny shouted. "The skirt needs to be poofy, and the bodice needs to be sparkly."

"I don't think it should be a problem," Mike said.

"Yeah, Mom could fix it up in a snap," Aimee said. "She's good at things like that. She can sew sequins to it in no time."

"No, not sequins!" Fanny shouted. "Those things are cheap and they shed all over the place. I meant with real diamonds."

"Diamonds," Mike repeated.

"Not rhinestones, or cheap glass diamonds that you can buy in a two bit craft store either!" Fanny yelled. "I'm talking about genuine one hundred percent diamonds. Preferably imported from Jwaneng."

"Jwaneng?!" Aimee, Franky, and the four Monkees shouted in unison.

"But those are some of the richest diamonds in the world!" Micky shouted, incredulously.

"I know, and they're the ones that shine the brightest!" Fanny shouted.

"You gotta be nuts," Mike said. "That's all the way in Botswana. Nobody could possibly go all the way there and be back lickety split in time to finish the gown for your wedding!"

"I 'eard DeBeers 'as a partnership with that mine," Davy said. "Why not just go there?"

"Oh, little Monkees!" Fanny lightly chuckled, before she grew enraged. "I WANT TO BE A PRETTY, PRETTY PRINCESS BRIDE! And pretty, pretty princess brides need to shine bright like a diamond. SO SOMEONE BETTER GET THEIR BUTT TO BOTSWANA AND GET ME MY DIAMONDS!"

Once again, the bride to be stormed down the hall in a huff, stomped into the guest bedroom, and slammed the door behind her.

"I told you guys you'd be sorry," Ellen said, not bothering to look up from her comic book.

"Well, I'd better go talk to Mom about this," Aimee said.

"Can't your cousin talk to _her_ mother?" Mike asked.

"Are you kidding?" Aimee asked. "Aunt Norma can't sew to save her life. Matter of fact, Aunt Norma can't do a lot of stuff my mom is good at."

"I think we'd better make our exit, fellas," Micky said. "I kind of don't want to be around when Gina gets a load of her niece's latest idea."

"Good idea," Aimee said. "Because once she does, she'll raise the roof."

The Monkees nodded, and then took their leave.

"Hey, Uncle Peter, do me a biiiiiig favor," Franky said.

"Anything, Franky," Peter said. "What is it?"

"When I'm old enough to get married," Franky said, "and I wind up about to marry a girl like Aimee's cousin Bridezilla, shoot me quickly!"

The next day, the Monkees' rehearsal was interrupted by banging on the front door. Mike glanced at the calendar on the wall.

"It ain't rent day," he said. "Wonder what Babbit's poundin' at the door for now?"

Peter answered the door, and Aimee came flying in, looking like she had just seen a ghost.

"Guys, I need help!" she practically begged.

"What's Bridezilla up to now?" Micky groaned, rolling his eyes.

"She wants her bouquet to match the wedding colors," Aimee explained.

"Why is that so upsetting?" Davy asked. "Just take some white roses, and you can find some nice blue flowahs, and then . . . ."

"She wants her bouquet to be _roses_ only!" Aimee shouted.

"Oh . . ." Davy realized. "Yes, I can see 'ow that can be distressing."

"I know, right?" Aimee said. "Have you ever seen a blue rose that isn't dyed?"

"No, I haven't," Mike said. "Wait a second, why isn't the bride telling us this herself?"

"She sent me to do it because she's too busy at some spa or another getting pampered," Aimee said. "And she couldn't send Mother because _she's_ too busy trying to get diamonds to sew on her stupid dress!"

"Oh boy!" Mike slapped his forehead.

"I've been to every florist in town and they all just laughed in my face!" Aimee shouted, almost in tears. "I don't know what else to do!"

"Take it easy, love," Davy said, trying to calm down the thirteen-year-old. "It'll be okay."

"Let me see what I can do about a blue rose," Mike said. "I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try."

"Thanks, Mike," Aimee said. "You're a lifesaver!"

With that, Aimee left. Mike sighed, and snapped his fingers. A seed catalog appeared from out of nowhere in his hands.

"I thought you weren't going to use your magic on this," Micky said.

"I'm not," Mike said, looking through the catalog. "Not unless it's necessary. I don't want to rely too much on it. I wonder where I'm going to find a flower that looks close enough to a blue rose to fool the bride? I wonder if anybody has any experience with rose hybrids?"

After tearing through every single seed catalog he could, and unable to come up with anything, Mike went to Aimee's house to tell her the bad news. The minute the door opened, he heard Fanny yelling.

"WHEN I SAID TEN INCH HEELS I MEANT TEN INCHES!" she shouted on the phone, as she flung a white high heel shoe at the wall. "THAT WASN'T HYPERBOLE!"

"Hi, Mike," Mac said, sounding a little tired.

"I see Princess Charming's still at it," Mike said.

"That's putting it mildly," Mac sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I have a few choice words for her, but since her mother is my mother's favorite, I'll bite my tongue."

"No, no, no, you moron!" the bride to be yelled. "Don't you know how to do _any_ thing?! LILY WHITE, YOU DIPSTICK! NOT EGGSHELL, OR CREAM, OR ECRU!"

"You know, when we asked Aimee what her cousin's name was, and Aimee said Fanny, and then Ellen said she was one," Mike said. "Now I know what she meant."

"Don't let my mother hear you say that," Mac said. "So what brings you over here, Mike?"

"Bad news, I'm sorry to say," Mike said. "Aimee came over about tryin' to find blue roses. But there's a problem. They don't exist. Not natural ones, anyway."

"I was afraid of that."

"I don't know what else I can tell ya, Mac."

"We'll just have to dye some, I guess."

"Well, let's you and me call around and see if we can get some dyed flowers, shall we?"

Mac nodded, and heaved a sigh. This was not going to be an easy day.

Later in the day, Fanny and Aimee went to the bridal salon to see the alterations Fanny had asked for. Peter and Franky went with them, and were waiting for both of them to come out of the fitting rooms.

"They had better be the best dresses I've ever seen!" Fanny called out in a demanding tone.

"It'll take a miracle for _that_ to happen," Franky muttered to his uncle. Peter gave him a swat in the arm.

"Be nice," he warned.

Moments later, Aimee walked out clad in her gown. She looked more like an Azalea Trail Maid than a bridesmaid. Fanny came out a few moments later, took a look at her own gown in the mirror, and burst into tears.

"WAAAAAAH!"

"Oh brother," Franky groaned, rolling his eyes.

"What's the matter now?" Peter asked.

"THIS IS ALL WRONG!" Fanny wailed at the top of her lungs. "The bridesmaid's dresses are supposed to be _ice_ blue, not _teal_! And they need more ruffles!"

" _More_ ruffles?!" Franky shouted. "You gotta be kidding me!"

"My tiara is too small and it doesn't have enough bling, either!" Fanny whined on. "And my dress isn't poofy or sparkly enough!"

"That skirt is about as puffed up as a marshmallow on steroids," Franky said. "Any poofier, and you won't be able to fit through the chapel doors!"

"I demand you fix this at once!" Fanny shouted at the salesgirl as she stormed back into the fitting room to change.

"What is she _think_ ing?!" the salesgirl asked, about ready to kill someone. "These _are_ ice blue!"

"I'm _so_ sorry about my cousin," Aimee said. "She's an only child, and used to getting her way."

"Sheesh," the salesgirl grumbled. "Back to the ol' drawing board I guess."

There wasn't much that could be done after that. After Fanny and Aimee changed, the quartet went back to Aimee's house, and found Mike and Mac taking some white roses out of some blue dye.

" _What_ are _those_?" Fanny demanded.

"Well, we couldn't find any way to get natural blue roses, so we had to resort to dyin' them," Mike explained.

"No! No! No!" Fanny shouted as she stomped around the kitchen. "How _dare_ you tell me you couldn't get natural blue roses! This is unacceptable!"

"Well, if you can tell me where to find natural blue roses I'll be glad to get some," Mac said.

Fanny was about to retort, but realized her uncle had a point. She then groaned in disgust.

"Fine, I'll take the crummy dyed roses!" she shouted. Then she turned to Mike. "But it's all your fault if they look bad in my bouquet!"

With that, Fanny stormed off. Mike was about to give her a good zap with his magic, but Franky and Peter stopped him.

"Not in front of Aimee and her dad!" Franky hissed. "They don't know you're half warlock!"

"Sorry," Mike said. "I lost myself for a minute there."

The next day, Fanny paid another visit to the bakery, with Aimee in tow. Micky and Davy went with them to make sure Fanny didn't go too nuts. Judy and Mrs. Baxter were adding the finishing touches to the cake.

"Oh, perfect timing!" Judy beamed. "So, what do you think?"

Fanny gave a scrutinizing glance at the five tiered cake decorated with white buttercream frosting and blue fondant roses.

"The cake alternates vanilla and chocolate," Judy explained. "That way all your guests can choose which one they want."

"Not big enough," Fanny curtly replied.

"What?" Mrs. Baxter asked.

"You heard me!" Fanny shouted. "Also it won't be fresh in time for the wedding."

"Excuse me?!" Judy asked.

"I want it fresh, as in piping hot out of the oven before the reception begins!" Fanny demanded.

"You must be joking!" Davy shouted.

"Hey, lady, do you know how long it takes to bake a cake like this?" Micky asked.

"I WANT FRESH CAKE!" Fanny roared as she swiped the middle tier with her hand, causing the entire cake to fall down.

"Hey!" Mrs. Baxter cried in anger. "We worked hard on that! Who do you think you are?!"

"Who do _you_ think _you_ are!?" Fanny retorted. "I'm the bride, and I demand fresh cake for my wedding! It also needs to be twenty tiers at least. Also replace the chocolate with vanilla. And make sure you change the frosting to white chocolate instead. Buttercream is too gross and _nobody_ likes it!"

Mrs. Baxter and Judy stared at their fallen cake with dismay.

"All that hard work . . ." Judy moaned. "And we spent at least five days making sure it was just right. Now we're going to have to start all over again!" She then let out a few whimpering sobs.

"I'm _really_ sorry," Aimee said. "Please, Mrs. Baxter, don't hold it against my family. We're not all that bad, really!"

"I think this is our cue to split," Micky said, and he, Davy, and Aimee slunk out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, the Monkees and Franky dropped by Aimee's house to see how she and her parents were holding up. They found Aimee and Ellen arranging carnations, roses, and bluebells into white and blue tissue paper.

"I can't be _lieve_ this," Ellen grumbled.

"Uh oh," Mike sighed. "What now?"

"Remember you told Special Snowflake that you couldn't find natural blue roses?" Ellen asked.

"Yeah," Mike said. "And you want to know why I told her? Because they don't exist, that's why I told her."

"We showed her the bridesmaids bouquets with the roses you and Daddy dyed," Aimee said. "And when she saw them, she said, and I quote, 'No, no, no! I still can't stand dyed roses! Find a naturally blue flower instead! Oh and add carnations. White ones _if you please_.' Ugh."

"I am _really_ getting sick of her!" Ellen shouted. "If she wasn't family, I'd definitely tell her to take her flowers and . . ."

"Ah, thank you, Ellen," Aimee cut her sister off before she could finish that sentence. "That'll do."

Mike was about to say something, when the group suddenly heard Fanny screaming bloody murder down the hallway.

" _NAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOO!_ " she screamed stomping into the room with a large, gaudy diamond tiara on her head, and wearing a wedding dress with an extremely poofy skirt.

"Looks like Bridezilla's on the rampage again," Mike said.

"This is all _WROOOOOOOOONG_!" Fanny screamed. "THE CAKE IS TOO SMALL! MY TIARA DOESN'T HAVE ENOUGH BLING! THE RINGS ARE ONLY TWENTY-FOUR KARAT GOLD INSTEAD OF THIRTY! ONLY ONE THOUSAND PEOPLE RSVP'D! THE BRIDESMAIDS DRESSES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE _ICE_ BLUE AND THEY'RE TEAL! AND THEY NEED _MORE_ RUFFLES!"

"More ruffles, she says," Franky said, rolling his eyes. "She doesn't want bridesmaids, she wants Azalea Trail Maids!"

"I'm hip," Mike said. "Those things look like a bunch of carnations have exploded on 'em."

"And what's her beef with the cake this time?" Micky asked.

"You know how big the cake is?" Ellen asked. "It's about the same size as Aimee!"

"Five foot three," Aimee said.

"That's big," Micky said.

"I think she's startin' to sound ridiculous," Mike said.

"DOESN'T ANYONE UNDERSTAND THAT THIS IS _MY_ DAAAAAYYYYY?!" Fanny screamed. "AND MY DRESS ISN'T POOFY ENOUGH, EITHER!"

"And that just proves it," Mike said, rolling his eyes.

"Was that a wedding gown, or a circus tent she was wearing?" Franky asked. "It looks like she blew that skirt up with a bicycle pump!"

"I don't see 'ow that dress can get any poofier than that!" Davy shouted.

"It's only one more day, fellas," Aimee said. "One more day until this whole fiasco ends."

"I just hope I can make it that long without killin' the Bridezilla," Mike said with a sigh.

Finally, after a lot of toil, sweat, tears, and thankfully no blood, the wedding was ready to begin. Wilton, the Monkees, Franky, and five other men stood at the altar. Pachabel's "Canon in D" began playing, and Ellen came down the aisle, grimacing and tossing blue and white rose petals around.

"At least Mac found a use for those dyed roses after all," Mike said to Micky.

After Ellen came Wilton's nephew, Forbershire. He had huge, thick, round glasses, and a bit of a pouty expression. It was obvious he wasn't happy to be there, either. Then came the ten bridesmaids. Aimee was the first to walk down the aisle in her overly ruffled very pale blue gown. She had a grimace on her face, and she really did not want to be here. Once all ten of the bridesmaids were at the altar, the organist began to play "Here Comes the Bride."

There was a slight problem, however. The bride wasn't marching down the aisle. Everyone looked at the back of the narthex curiously.

"Did she hear the march?" Peter whispered to Davy.

The organist began to play "Here Comes the Bride" again, right from the beginning, but nothing happened.

"Pardon me, everyone," Mike said as he got out his position and rushed toward the entrance. Franky and Aimee followed him. They were not a bit surprised to see Fanny struggling to squeeze herself through the doors.

"I _knew_ this was gonna happen," Franky muttered.

"Get me through these doors!" Fanny demanded in a strained voice. Not only was her dress poofed out beyond reason, but the bridal salon added sleeves that were bigger than the bride's head.

"I don't think it's possible," Mike said, trying to hide a smirk behind his hand. "And I would hate to take the door off the hinges."

"Maybe if we try to remove some of those extra layers of tulle," Aimee suggested.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH THIS DRESS!" Fanny hollered.

"Well, unless you have a better idea, we're gonna have to hold this wedding outside," Mike stated while crossing his arms over his chest.

Fanny muttered some choice words under her breath before she heaved an irritated sigh. "Okay, fine! We'll hold the wedding outside! HAPPY?!"

"No, but at least you've come to your senses," Mike added sotto voce. He then went back into the chapel to inform the wedding party, the guests, and the officiant about the change of plans. Once everyone was outside, the officiant began the ceremony.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness . . ." he said.

Suddenly, Mike began to get a funny feeling. He looked up at the darkening sky, and groaned.

"Oh no," he said.

"What's 'oh no?'" Fanny demanded. She soon got her answer as a torrential downpour rained down on the wedding.

"NOOOO!" Fanny wailed as her bridesmaids held their ears and cringed. "THIS ISN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN ON MY DAY! MY DRESS IS RUINED! MY HAIR IS RUINED! MY FLOWERS ARE RUINED!"

"Fanny," Mike calmly started, "we know you're upset, but I think you might want to calm down."

"WHO ASKED YOU, YOU HICK?!" Fanny screamed. "DO SOMETHING! MAKE IT STOP RAINING!"

"Make it stop rain, whattaya make it stop rainin'?!" Mike shouted. "How do you expect me to do that?! I can't control the weather!"

"Well, technically," Micky said to Mike quietly so the bride wouldn't hear him, "you _can_ make it stop raining, you know?"

"Yeah, well," Mike said, "I know that, and you know that, but the Bridezilla _doesn't_ , and I ain't about to tell her!"

As her overly large bouffant began to wilt under the rain, and with heavy make up streaking down her face, Fanny turned to Wilton.

"Honey, _do_ something!" she demanded.

"No, dear," Wilton simply stated.

Needless to say everyone gaped in shock over that statement, but none was more shocked than the bride herself.

"D-did you just tell me no?!" she stuttered before regaining her voice.

"Yes, dear," Wilton added with a smug grin before he turned around and left his bride at the altar.

"Come back here!" Fanny demanded as she tried to run after him. "You promised to love, cherish, and obey me all my life!"

Fanny then tripped on her overly big gown and fell face first into a mud puddle. Ellen, who was trying to stifle giggles throughout the whole soggy ordeal finally gave in and burst out laughing. Aimee followed suit, followed by Franky. Even the four Monkees struggled to retain her composure.

"STOP LAUGHING!" Fanny shouted as she tried to stand up, but tripped and landed on her rear in the puddle next. "THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"

"Yes it is," Ellen stated between her laughs.

Once the now drooping, muddy, messy bride was on her feet, she stormed up to Aimee, her parents, and the Monkees.

"This has been, without a doubt, the worst day of my life!" she shouted. "I never want to set foot in this stupid town as long as I live!"

"Good riddance!" Ellen shouted at Fanny's back. "So long, Special _Sneu_ flake!"

"Ellen," Gina said, in a warning tone.

"I guess this means the wedding is canceled," Aimee sighed.

"I'd hate to see all that food go to waste, though," Gina said.

"I think I have an idea," Micky said.

"What's that?" Davy asked.

"A 'Hurray, the Bridezilla is Gone From Our Lives' party," Micky said. "After all, you guys paid for it!"

"Yeah, man!" Franky shouted.

And with everyone rushed to the hotel ballroom where the reception was supposed to be held to celebrate the end of a very long, very trying few weeks.

The End


End file.
